


From the Bottom of My Heart

by TheDarkFlygon



Category: Original Work
Genre: Acceptance, Canon Het Relationship, Canon Trans Character, Caretaking, College, Coming Out, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Falling In Love, Female Friendship, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Heterosexuality, Hurt/Comfort, Literary References & Allusions, Male Friendship, Mutual Pining, One Shot Collection, Paris (City), Self-Acceptance, Self-Esteem Issues, Sickfic, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Trans Character, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-03
Updated: 2017-12-21
Packaged: 2019-02-10 03:11:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12902697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDarkFlygon/pseuds/TheDarkFlygon
Summary: The tales of two bookworm lovers, from their studies in Paris to their domestic family life in Lille. Expect some fluff, some angst, some hurt/comfort, love, pain, sadness, happiness, anger, ups and downs, books, music.It's not because you're a literature professor in a-not-so-prestigious khâgne class in the north of France that you cannot have a rich romantic life.(Tags will be added as I go, character, relationship or content-related. The oneshots aren't in any chronological order, except for the first one being what began it all.)





	1. Through Her Pink Glasses

**Author's Note:**

> The smol tour to some floof with Flygon:  
> 1\. Through Her Pink Glasses: the first words to each other. Florian-centric.  
> 2\. Cura and Cure: the mandatory sick episode. Annabelle-centric.  
> 3\. The Façade's Poison Ivy: the heaviest announcement yes. Florian-centric.
> 
> Eventual relationships:  
> -Madgalena/Louise

“Can I ask you both something?” he suddenly whispers, raising his eyes from his book on romantic poetry, as he looks away.

“Sure thing,” replies Christian, “what is it?”

“I bet you’re going to ask us where we can find this very rare book you once read in Lakanal’s library” deadpans back Henri.

“The… girl right there, her name is Annabelle, right?”

 

His shaky, trying-to-be-sneaky finger points in the direction of an auburn-haired, petite young woman from their class. She is speaking with two of her friends, a blonde and a redhead, both of which are taller than she is. They all seem to enjoy themselves as they speak about a topic they cannot hear about.

“Yeah, Annabelle Baudelas, our class major. It’s been two months since we’ve been in the same class” replies Henri. “It’s time you realize that I guess.”

“Don’t forget Flo is bad at remembering names. He called Juliette Soissons “Julie” as long as we studied Lamartine in high school.”

“Guys, this isn’t the time to argue about my bad name memory…”

 

Christian’s face lightens with a wide grin.

“Hey, Flo, you’re all red suddenly. Care to explain to us why?” 

The glasses-wearing boy hides his face in his hands.

“I-I-I’m not blushing…”

“You totally are. Let me guess, you think she looks really pretty and really nice and you want to talk to her?” asks Henri, allowing his friend to break out from his embarrassment.

“Y-yeah… Goddammit, my stupid accent is slipping…”

“You’re auto-commenting yourself again, Flo. Just go for the kill.”

 

He takes a deep breath in and walk towards her, struggling to find his words. They know it because his eyes are squinting. His demeanour is the less natural thing since Formica tables, but they are sure he will manage to at least pick her interest.

“Huh, Annabelle…?” he squeezes out from his chest, right hand over it.

“Yes?” she hums back as she turns towards the source of her name, only to stop for a bit.

Her friends look at each other, nod and swiftly walk away, blinking at the two boys across their dedicated library spot.

 

“You are… Florian, right? How can I help you?” she asks, waving him a small smile.

He is already happy she is even _smiling_ at him, even if it is just by politeness.

“Well, I, huh… I know we never really talked yet… But I really wanted to talk to you…? You seem like a pretty nice person, and I want to know you better…”

He is really, really awkward right now. He swallowed down a huge part of his pride and tried to stop fuddling with his hands right in front of the lovely Annabelle.

 

She chuckled softly.

“Aw, you are so sweet… You seem like a very nice boy too, I am glad you want to get to know me better. It is really kind of you.”

He could almost taste his heartbeats from how vivid these were.

“Are you all right? You look like you are going to fall down” her voice tints in worry as he feels his legs transform into jelly. He almost feels lightheaded too.

 

He feels himself lose his balance as she caught him in his fall, sitting him on the chair right next to her. Between his furious blinks, he sees her put a hand on her forehead, then it’s on his, then she’s looking at him with worry.

“Fortunately, you are not running a fever… What happened?”

“I think my stress got relieved too quickly and I lost control, or at least I suppose. I’m not really sure…”

“You were this nervous to talk to me? I am flattered, but you got me really worried for your well-being there.”

“I’m…” he corrects himself from slipping into his native accent, “I am sorry. I did not want to worry you.

She smiles again, a hand on his shoulder. Is she a little redder than before? His mind must be playing tricks on him.

“It is all right, there was more fear than harm. Just take a bit more care of yourself, okay? There is no need to get this stressed out. This is all fine.”

 

A small giggle escapes his mouth. He feels stupid right now, he really does, but being around her makes it so it is okay in his mind to look stupid at the moment. She grabs a chair and sits next to him.

“What did you want to ask me to know me better?” Annabelle asks, looking at him through her pink glasses.

Honestly he sees her through pink glasses too.

“I am not really sure… What do you like to read, maybe? Who are your favourite authors?”

“These are really precise questions. I do not think I have set favourite authors. However, I mostly enjoy poetry. There is something about both the freedom and the constraints of it which fascinates me. The sound some verses have is simply wonderful.”

“Poetry is my favourite genre too. I cannot really state why so, strangely.”

He still feels somewhat dazed, but it’s all okay if he’s with her. It’s like he’s already in love when, really, that can’t be the case. They just started speaking to each other.

 

“Now is my turn to ask you a question.” Annabelle continues, eyes shimmering. “What is your favourite music instrument?”

“I love how piano sounds the most. Classical music soothes the most, would you not agree?”

“I like piano a lot too, but I will have to say my favourite instrument is the violin. Most people only see it as crying, sad, inherently depressing. This is not the case. You can convey such a wide variety of emotions with it… One day, I will show you how so, if you agree.”

“Anytime…”

 

They continue to make small talk, learning about each other’s tastes in various fields. Sometimes they agree, sometimes they disagree, but it’s all okay. He’ll roll with it, if it means they can spend more time together in the coming future. After an hour or so, he has to attend to his Ancient French class. It’s with some sadness he leaves her to be, but not before getting her phone number after he asked her for it. He is still so glad she accepted to entrust him with it.

 

 

After Florian left, she gets up from her chair and puts it back where she got it. Feeling lovestruck, Annabelle simply muses about having given him her phone number. She wishes very hard he will send her a message as soon as possible. She wants to talk to him again, just like they just did. Her thoughts are a mess: she does not remember what book she just read.

The verses are all lost on her. She does not remember what they were even about. All there is in their place is a soft piano melody she will write down whenever she gets back to her flat.

There is something in his voice, in his laugh, in his eyes which she loves, but she cannot pin-point what. All she knows is that Florian is lovely and that she wants to know him more even more now.

 

Magdalena and Louise were waiting for her at the door of the library.

“I can’t believe he talked to me...!” she squeals, trying to keep her voice as low as possible.

“Told you he had eyes for you since day one,” smirks Magdalena gently slapping her shoulder. “How did it go?”

“It was wonderful! He almost fainted because he was nervous, but once he got all settled down, I did not see the time go by…”

“That’s really nice to hear,” comments Louise smiling to her friend. “It looks like you’re already in love with him, am I wrong?”

“Not yet, it’s impossible!”

 

However, Annabelle cannot deny she is the happiest she has been in a while. Or that she is blushing previously.

“You do sound like it’s going to happen soon” Magdalena scoffs, a large grin on her face.


	2. Cura and Cure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Annabelle can't focus on class today, and she's fully aware that's not how things usually are, except she can't exactly tell why she's like that.  
> At least, that's until Magda helps her realizing why, and then Christian indirectly helps her to realize exactly why things are that way, by simply encouraging her to make a visit.
> 
> (aka: the sick episode)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title of this oneshot refers to the fact the Latin word "cura" (cura, ae, f) both refers to worry and, well, cure.   
> Latinist joke.
> 
> I guess it can also refer to the second chapter of Sollicitude, "Dolor et Curae" (Pain and Care), who is, coincidentally, a Florian POV chapter with a huge focus on his relationship with Annabelle.

Annabelle is quite out of it today. Usually, she is fascinated by the Ancient French class, comparing it with how French is currently getting spoken around her, how she speaks it, the list of uses goes on. However, her mind cannot find a way to focus on what their teacher is currently speaking about, and she struggles to keep up with it. This does not feel right, and the way Magda and Louise are looking at her from the neighbouring row of chairs and tables make her acutely aware of this.

 

A piece of paper lands on her table, coming from the left. It must had been Magda, and when she looks at her _khâgne_ godmother, she sees a small smile on her lips, the one she used to give when she doubted herself last year. Her eyes then go back to the class, as Annabelle should be doing. She opens the paper and read what is written on it.

“It’s bcs he not here, no?”

 

Who is “he”? Magda seems to be oddly vague about the whole ordeal. She still glances at a table at the other side of the classroom, next to the wall and the door, only to notice an empty seat. Oh, so this is the “he” she was referring to earlier… Annabelle can only put this as an explanation of her difficulty to focus on anything today.

She sighs softly to herself, head resting on her hand, as she wonders what could have possibly happened to him. She hopes it’s not much. It’s not his kind to skip class, so something must had happened for him to be stuck outside of their classroom.

 

When it finally rings off, Annabelle exits the room. As soon as she spots him in the forum space, she walks up to Christian, a friend of her brother’s, but mostly a friend of Florian. He must know where his comrade is, right? Or at least he has an idea of so. When she tells him hello, Christian is surprised. They never spoke to each other directly yet, only when Florian was there. He still greets her back.

“Let me guess, you want to know why Flo wasn’t in class today?” he asks her, smirking.

“Is it this obvious? Oh my…” she replies, feeling a bit guilty of being such, such an opportunist.

“You weren’t as focused as usual, so I guessed you were worried for him. He hasn’t told us anything yet, but I’m sure he’s just sick and forgot to plug in his phone.”

His smirk turns into a grin. He whistles as his eyes look away.

“I’m sure a little visit wouldn’t hurt him, though… What about you check up on him? I have to attend class at Sorbonne this afternoon.”

 

Her face lights up with surprise. This offer is too attractive for her to resist the urge to accept, especially since she doesn’t have any class for the day… But is it right for her to do so? She doesn’t even know where Florian lives…

“You look like you’re hesitating, am I wrong?”

“I-it’s not that, but… I don’t know where he lives…”

“It’s just that? Let me send you his address. Don’t forget to bring him some soup!”

 

Walking down the street, going back to her flat, Annabelle receives a text message from Christian, containing the address he said to give her. The young lady clutches the phone next to her chest, already thinking about what she needs to bring with her.

Soup will take her too much time to make on her own, she’ll buy some at the nearest shop. Maybe he’s running low on medicine, she should make a small trip to the pharmacy and buy some fever reducers and cough drops. Oh, she should bring some tissues with her too. Man, so many things he needs, and so many things she’ll gladly pay for.

 

* * *

 

 

Now that she is in front of the door indicated on her phone, the small student feels shy and almost scared. It makes her nervous to knock at his door when he doesn’t know she got her hand on his address. She also doesn’t want to wake him up, if he’s asleep. A sigh escapes her glossed lips as she lays back to the door, looking at the ceiling, her hand firmly holding her small basket.

Her ears twitch when she hears coughing inside. Her hand knocks on the wooden surface before she can think about it. Now facing the door, she anxiously waits for something. Her nose transforms into a leaking air balloon.

 

The coughing gets louder and louder until the knock starts to shake. Wood gives the spotlight to blue fabric, buttons, body hair, then a familiar face. It’s him, obviously, dressed in a badly ironed pyjama and covered in a blanket.

“…Anna… Annabelle…?” a hoarse voice calls for, a rather strong congestion and sounding like there’s an accent that shouldn’t be in there.

Her heart hurts.

“H-hello…,” it’s as if her voice has dried by the second, “it’s indeed me… Do I disturb you?”

 

Florian, under the flush of what she can only guess is a fever, makes her a small smirk.

“I’m very happy you came to visit me,” he coughs, “but that’s not the day to do so…”

“You have gotten this wrong!”

A scoff escaped his mouth as his face got covered in a pained amusement.

“You’re kidding me, right…? I look like crap, I sound like crap, my flat is a mess and…”

“You are ill, and when someone is ill, someone else has to take care of them. And I will be the one to do so for you, even if you refuse me.”

 

Her friend’s eyes looked on the side, his cheeks reddened, and eventually, he just sighed.

“I can’t possibly say not to such solicitude… Please enter… I’m sorry, the place is a mess, I haven’t had the energy to clean lately…”

 

Annabelle, who has been crossing her fingers behind her back, steps inside the flat. She can see it is indeed pretty disorganized, with books and some other items on the floor of his one-room flat. Meanwhile, Florian just staggers in front of her, only to collapse on his bed, head crashing first while his coughing echoes in the entire room.

“My, my, Florian, you sound like you came down with a terrible illness…” slips out of her mouth as she rushed to him.

“Do I…? Guessed so… Everybody looked at me like I was about to die when I went to the doctor…” he croaks out as he laid properly in bed. “Please forgive my unformal look… I didn’t plan on getting a visit today…”

 

Annabelle didn’t say anything. Instead, she lowered herself to the bed, took her own temperature with the back of her hand, then laid it on his forehead. After barely touching it, she took it off, shaking her wrist, accompanied by a small hiss.

“You’re running such a fever…!”

“Come on, it’s not _that_ bad… I think it’s around thirty-eight…? I can’t remember when I t-”

 

Before he could keep on, she had already put a thermometer in his mouth. His eyes, which had tried to be stern until then, just rolled slightly and he simply took it in and let it go.

“Thirty-nine point six… This is pretty high if you ask me…” she muses as she reads the numbers on the small stick.

“Agreed… I just blanked out there…”

“This does not sound like you to say so, Florian. It is almost as if you are… someone else…”

He looks away, bits his lip, scratches his beard.

“To be entirely honest with you, Annabelle… I’m not in the right state of mind to look fancy…”

“Does it mean you’re… usually playing a role…?”

“No, I’m just trying harder than that… If you don’t mind, can we have this talk later…?”

“Sure thing. You look like you need some care and not some deep conversation.”

 

After a quick blink, the little woman rushed to the tiny bathroom of the flat, grabbed a bucket, filled it with water and fetched the first cloth she had under her hand. She then proceeded to dunk it inside and wipe the sweat off his face.

“Wait, is that… your handkerchief…?” he coughed out.

“It is not a problem, before you ask… Maybe you should change clothes if you feel up to it. You look like you are sweating a lot.”

“You… don’t mind doing all of this…?”

 

Annabelle blinks before a light-hearted laugh escapes her mouth.

“Of course, I do not, silly! I was worried for you, it makes me feel better to be able to do something… You look like you needed some help and care anyway…”

His face lights up a little, to the point colour may be coming back there to counter the red of fever.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve this… but I’m truly grateful…”

“Do not mention it. I am just doing what I think is right.”

 

She eventually flats out her handkerchief on his forehead, intrigued by a small piece of paper she noticed when she first entered in his flat. She reads it, notices his healthcare card right next to it, deciphers the cryptic writing.

“Florian,” she asks, “did you get the medicine your doctor told you to get?”

“I didn’t… I fainted before I could grab my credit card…”

A wet, violent coughing fit hurts her so strongly she clutches her own chest, right where her beats are getting out of control.

“You still need it. I am borrowing this,” she says as she shows him his own card, “and the paper. I will be back in a bit.”

Annabelle gathers her coat and purse when she notices her classmate’s hand reaching out for her.

“I’ll go… Let me just… gather myself over there…”

 

Before he can step more than a foot outside of his bed, she rushed out to him, grab his shoulders and gently puts him down back to bed.

“Are you insane, Florian? You are in no condition to get up at the moment… Let me do this for you, okay?”

“You’re not gonna pay for that… I’m weary about my credit card code…”

“Oh, come on! I can do this for you! And if you want to repay me so badly, you can do so when you’re feeling better, is it right?”

He simply nods back.

“Deal…”

She passes a hand through his hair, kisses the top of his head and waves him a “I will be back soon” look as she grabs the key and closes the door behind her.

 

* * *

 

 

As soon as she’s out of view, Annabelle hides her face in her hands, feeling all of her blood reaching out to her head. She can barely believe she just did that without realizing it! It’s something she would do out of sheer affection, to her brother when they were younger, then to her ex-boyfriend… It doesn’t have the platonic resonance it used to anymore, it’s become something else over time.

She can only hope Florian was too dizzy to realize how unpolite and intimate the gesture was. Still, she doesn’t have much time to lose to her clumsiness: she has medicine to buy.

 

As the pharmacist she usually goes to is maybe the gentlest man she’s met (after Florian, that is), the literature student enters the same pharmacy as before, clutching the paper in her gloved hands, her purse firmly clutched in her armpit. Today is chilly outside, but so, so warm inside.

Her small boots clack and clack to the desk, where the white-coated man smiles at her with his ice blue eyes and his dimple in his left cheek. He’s as lovely as he ever is.

 

“Hello again…” she says, unable to retain a smile.

“Hello again, Ms Baudelas! What can I do for you this time around?”

“I am here to get my friend’s medicine… Here you go…” She puts the bill on the counter. “Thank you very much, once again.”

“I will take care of it.”

 

He reads the contents of the small piece of paper with the help of a pair of reading glasses.

“Hmm… One preparation of Tamiflu, three doses per day, for Florian Moinot…” he muses to himself. “Do you have his healthcare card?”

Annabelle gets it from the chest pocket on her overcoat, “here you go.”

He scans it and goes through a door in the back of the shop, whose sign reads “Staff only”.

 

When he comes back, a couple of minutes later, he has a small plastic bag in his hand, which he then hands to her. A payment with her credit card later, she can’t help but notice her pharmacist seems… puzzled.

“Is something wrong, doctor?” she asks, feeling her worry intensify.

“No, I was just wondering about something… When you came to buy some medicine earlier, was it for this man too? If you do not mind telling me, obviously.”

“It was…”

“You are a wonderful friend, Ms Baudelas. I am sure he is very grateful for you.”

 

* * *

 

 

When she comes back to his flat, Annabelle finds her classmate sound asleep in bed, an half-opened book on the ground right next to his hanging arm. A soft smile installs itself on her lips as she takes off her shoes, tip-toes to his bed and lays the blanket over him, retrieving his arm under it as well. She also picks up the book and puts it properly on his nightstand, right next to his lamp.

From her purse, Annabelle grabs a piece of paper and writes on the back of it the instruction the pharmacists gave her about the medicine, until her hand slips and she writes down a small word to him.

 

“Dear Florian,

I wish you a safe and sound recovery. Please take care and do not overdo it, at least not until you are all recovered. The better you take care of yourself, the sooner you will be back in the swift of things. If you ever need help, do not hesitate to send a small message to either me or any of our friends, okay? Do not stress over me having paid for the medicine.

I also left you some homemade soup and an Egyptian fairy tale book in case you are in a dire need to read something easy and lovely.

With love,

Annabelle.”

 

As she exits the flat, trying to make as little noise as possible, Annabelle feels a lump of warmth and bliss rise in her chest. It never felt so right to take care of someone. Her heart finally beats at a normal speed as she cannot help but realize it.

She never thought she would be back in such feelings so soon.


	3. The Façade's Poison Ivy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Florian has something to tell Annabelle, but it's painful, like there's needles who want to get out from his trachea.  
> Needles straight from his chest. 
> 
> (aka: the sensible topic one)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't officially released something in English dealing with transidentity. I've been slained two years ago for an inacurrate depiction, and I'll give this to people, it was pretty inaccurate.  
> I originally inserted a birth/deathname, but ultimately chose not to, as I didn't know if it was OK for people.  
> With all due respect, I apologize for any inaccuracy. It never was in my intention.

“Annabelle, I have something to tell you.”

They’re sitting at a table in her flat, a cosy place all covered in warm colours, but especially a glamorous burgundy for the carpet under said table. Florian has looked at this carpet for… thirty seconds or so, trying to gather up the courage he’s currently in dire need. He didn’t want to land there but there he is.

 

“Like… I know we have both been in love for a while, without any of us having to tell the other, it is just… natural for us, right?”

“Of course it is,” Annabelle replies with a curious tone in her voice, “you just want to make it formal, do you not?”

“Yes, but… I have something else to tell you about, something you need to know before I feel like we can properly date.”

“I am all ears, Florian.”

 

It’s way harder when he’s actually facing her, her smile, her patient eyes, her general sweetness. It’s been a while since he did so, and changing colleges made it ten times easier, since he didn’t have to reveal the nasty thing.

However, he can’t say the same thing about a relationship meant to be intimate and built on trusting the other like one would do for themselves, if not more. He’s about to reveal to the girl who has haunted his heart for the past year about the worst part of himself, his very own weak point, that one aspect of himself he can’t help but hate. The hole in his now perfect Parisian façade.

 

“Listen, I… I… I’m a boy.”

“I… know this, Florian. It is pretty obvious, if you ask me.”

Snap. This isn’t how it’s going to go today, isn’t it? It’s a whole other nature.

“No, no, that wasn’t what I meant… I… I don’t know how to say it…”

His accent’s rearing its ugly head again, and he doesn’t want that, not in front of her, the girl he’s supposed to be worth of, so he focuses on his façade again. It’ll be easier if he has his façade. He finally looks into her eyes.

 

“Annabelle, I am not like other men. I am…”

He scratches his head, hands shaking and he sighs. It’ll be easier if it takes it the scientific route. What if she doesn’t know the word? It’s always possible. He highly doubts it, if even himself knew about it before entering college,

“Do you know the difference between physical sex and brain sex?”

“Is it not called gender? I have a vague memory of studying this in high school biology class. Why so?”

“It is called gender. The thing is that… that…”

 

The word rolls on his tongue over and over again, and he feels it in his chest, in his veins, in his nerves, and it feels all wrong again. It’s now or never. It shouldn’t be that way, if she loves him, she’ll accept that, won’t she? But if… There’s no time for ifs, if he doesn’t spit it out right now, he’ll never do so.

 

“Annabelle, I’m transgender. I’m a transgender man.”

 

Florian instantly falls back into his chair, barely releasing his breath, his eyes focused on her even if he feels like crying right now. It shouldn’t be this way. He shouldn’t feel so afraid, but there he is, wanting to cry like he was sixteen all over again. It’s still way too painful to say every time, like he hasn’t won over that yet, and like he never will. Maybe he’s damned to always feel so pained about that part of him.

 

“I’m… I’m born a woman.”

That sentence just reminds him of his birthname, every time. It’s like he can’t escape it. He doesn’t want to hear it again and simply suppress it from his memories, but it always comes back, crawling back from its tomb, like an undead that has been shot a thousand times but still comes back because he can’t find where to target the thing.

But he isn’t _her_ to the world now. He is _Florian_. He’ll always be Florian. _He’s always been Florian_.

And every time she comes back, she fades away even more, to the point she’s just the ghost of a rejection he suppressed the memory of enough to just remember his family.

 

“Are you alright? You look very shaken” says Annabelle, looking at him with the sweetest glance he’s ever seen, and his shoulders finally let a bit loose.

“I’m… I’m alright… It’s just tough to say, it’s always been… Sorry for making you worry” he apologizes, head still slightly spinning.

He comes back to a correct sitting position, lays his arms on the table. She puts her hand on his, a comfortable familiar warmth invades him, and he’s never been so grateful for the angel she is. He barely deserves her.

 

“It does not change any feeling I have for you, Florian. I am glad you trust in me enough to confess a thing so deep and painful for you, it shows how brave you are and how far we have come. However, believe me when I say this does not change the way I see you, nor my feelings for you. You are still yourself. I would follow you to the end of the world if it meant staying together.”

He feels like crying again, and he does, but this time it feels amazing. He has to take off his glasses and wipe his eyes out.

 

“I should have known you weren’t going to make a huge fuss about that… Sorry for all the worry I’ve induced in you, that wasn’t my purpose…”

She looks away, reddened cheeks, as he puts on his glasses again.

“You know, Florian, you should also stop with the Parisian attitude. This is not yourself, and I do not see what is fundamentally wrong enough with your natural speech for you to hide it.”

“Wait, how do you… Snap, I’ve been talking with my accent all along, haven’t I?”

 

She just giggles at his slight panic.

“Oh, Florian… You always talk like this when you are nervous… Not to mention this is how you spoke when you were ill. What is the issue with this?”

“It’s… just that I don’t like being that countryside guy in the class… I’ve come very far from where my family came from, but I can never entirely get rid of it, and I just relay on hiding my accent and speech…”

“Speaking of which… Where do you come from? I do not think I have heard this accent before.”

“I’m born and was raised in Evry, but my family is from Lorraine. I inherited my family’s accent during my childhood.”

 

 Annabelle gets up from her chair, goes next to him.

“Can you get up for me, please?” she asks.

He doesn’t really see why, but he still does. She goes on the tip of her feet, takes support on his chest and leaves the smallest kiss on his lips.

“You are quite tall,” she says in a gentle laugh.

 

Florian simply decides to lower so she can do whatever she wants to do with his face.

“I will have to buy taller heels,” she snickers.

“You just have to ask me to bow down.”

He’s the one to kiss her next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... I guess this is the first time I get to say this. 
> 
> Florian is transgender.
> 
> I've always been scared of making it official because, well, I'm questioning (I think I have genetial dysphoria, but I need to get diagnosed because I say anything) but it's possible I'm "just" cis. I know it's a touchey topic, so I handled it with as much care as I could for him. I hope this shows, and if it doesn't, I'm very sorry again. 
> 
> In case you ask how Annabelle already knew what transgender means... Let's say I cut the part where she says she has a cousin in this case.


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